


Apostate

by crackshipshook



Category: Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst and Romance, Bisexual Male Character, Blood and Gore, Eventual Smut, F/M, Graphic Description, Implied Past Relationships, M/M, Past Relationship(s), Rating: M, Slow Burn, deidara is a bisexual legend, deidara is a good guy kind of, let deidara art, like really slow burn for a while, past sasodei
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-14
Updated: 2018-03-26
Packaged: 2019-02-14 15:02:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 15,245
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13010298
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crackshipshook/pseuds/crackshipshook
Summary: Deidara has left the Akatsuki, and he isn't going back.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> hiiiii y'all, thanks for stopping by to check it out
> 
> just a few extra WARNINGS:
> 
> i'll be sure to put trigger warnings at the beginning of each chapter if i think it necessitates them but, however, if you are triggered by a chapter i didn't put a warning for, please tell me! i want don't want readers to feel uncomfortable because they weren't properly warned!
> 
> that being said, this fic has a bit of gore in it and so this is just a general warning for that
> 
> anyway, without further ado:

“...and that... is how I figured it all out... you stupid hippie.”  
  
Deidara stares back at Sasuke. “What the fuck did you just call me?”  
  
The muscles in Sasuke’s arms quake as he pushes himself to his feet again, taking a few steps forward before falling again. It’s a good thing too, seeing as Deidara can barely even sit up. The blonde watches as the Uchiha struggles and succeeds to rise yet again. Determined, Deidara tries to stand too. If they’re both out of chakra, he’ll have to use his fists—though that was exactly what he wanted to avoid.  
  
Still, Deidara’s legs fail beneath him, and he collapses as Sasuke still makes his approach, slowly but steadily. The Sharingans remain fixed on Deidara as the panic swells in him like a balloon.  
  
“Now,” Sasuke says, defeated only in patience, “tell me where Itachi is.”  
  
The balloon bursts inside Deidara as he tries a last resort, sending snakes out of his palms to wrap around Sasuke’s feet. Lightning builds around the Uchiha, running down the serpents’ tails towards Deidara’s hands. Quickly, the hands bite off the ends, and Deidara grunts, out of options. Now, he isn’t fighting to win, to prove himself; he’s fighting in hope of survival.  
  
“I told you. That won’t work anymore,” Sasuke tells him without sympathy. The reserves of the Uchiha’s chakra are running dangerously low, and another dip into them to discharge the snakes sends him to his knees again.  
  
Deidara laughs under his breath, feeling a bit more confident now that he may still be able to pull off a victory. “You sure talk tough, but you’re on your last legs too. I still have some clay left and that should be enough to finish…”  
  
Sasuke continues to glare as Deidara’s words begin to falter before stopping completely. He doesn’t speak in the absence of Deidara’s discourse; he lets his eyes doing the talking.  
  
“Shouldn’t you be a little worried? You’re about to get fucking obliterated by my art,” Deidara questions, his tone mixing disappointment and anger into one.  
  
Sasuke’s expression doesn’t change as he mutters his reply, “I doubt it.” He pushes dark hair out of his eyes, not wanting any interference with gauging what Deidara will do next before he actually does it. In a moment of weakness in containing his arrogance, he continues, “Your art sucks. It doesn’t stand a chance against me, not with my eyes... not with my jutsu.”  
  
Deidara feels his heart skip a beat. The rhythm quickly resumes and pumps blood into his aching hands, to his tattered, calloused fingertips. He feels every drop of rage that pours from his brain into his circulating blood, telling him maybe it’s time. Maybe he will have to use that jutsu. He will show this Uchiha brat he’s wrong; he’ll show Itachi he’s wrong too by killing his little brother.  
  
A laugh escapes him without restraint. Then another follows it and another and another until Deidara is full of the rage, seeping through every pore on his body. What comes next is an explosion within himself he didn’t foresee ever happening to him.  
  
“That is what annoys me the most about you and your brother!” It’s as if someone has jumped inside his body and warped his voice into something demonic. “You think you’re just so cool. It makes me so sick. You have absolutely no respect for my art—just like Itachi. Stop fucking ignoring me!”  
  
The memories of the day he was recruited into the Akatsuki come to mind. Itachi’s dull, unsympathetic eyes are etched into his brain like a scar on skin. Not a day goes by where they don’t flash through his head and he doesn’t itch to take revenge. When this whole Akatsuki ordeal was over, he would kill that motherfucker for his apathy, his arrogance.  
  
“I don’t care,” Sasuke interrupts before he can continue. “Chatter-box, I just want to know where Itachi is.” He comes off more frustrated than bored now.  
  
“Don’t cut me off!” Deidara roars. “I can still defeat you. I can defeat Itachi.”  
  
“No, you won’t because for one thing, you can’t. Your art would stand less of a chance against him than me. And secondly, I am going to kill Itachi,” Sasuke replies evenly, not sparing Deidara the statistics at hand. “So, tell me where he is.”  
  
Everything blurs into that single moment where Deidara must choose his own fate. One option ends him here with Sasuke’s hand recharging into one last Chidori—or maybe him ending it himself with the C0 technique. The other is an uncertain future filled with regrets and pain about never fulfilling his potential. Anger tries to make Deidara think irrationally, but fear is stronger in its persuasions. He doesn’t want to die. He doesn’t want to end it here just because of Itachi’s kid brother—not even the person he was ultimately trying to destroy.  
  
“I don’t know.”  
  
“What?” Sasuke blinks, surprised.  
  
“I said I don’t know,” Deidara repeats with a huff before crossing his arms over his heaving chest. “We rarely if ever meet in person anymore. I only see him in meetings through projections.”  
  
The look in his eyes when he had switched from mad to insane earlier is gone. His tantrum is over. The gravity of the position he’s found himself in has settled into his gut. The calmness of Sasuke’s voice and the severe honesty in the words it speaks has instilled despair into him more than anything. And, he figures, if Sasuke kills him now, he would probably be the one to end up defeating Itachi. The thought of Itachi’s death still coming to him at the hands of another who also hates him is satisfying enough to give over the little information he has.  
  
“Was that so hard?” Sasuke asks, a smirk turning on the corner of his lip.  
  
Deidara’s angry eyes flash over his features. “Well, what now?”  
  
“Now,” Sasuke groans, standing again finally, “I leave. Are you still going to try and kill me?”  
  
“It’s clear that I won’t be able to for now,” Deidara responds despondently, looking at the ground now rather than the smug satisfaction on Sasuke’s face. It looks too much like his brother’s.  
  
There’s a breaking through the trees, and two men and a woman surface, panting from their sprint. The woman immediately goes to Sasuke’s side and pulls his arm over her shoulder, her eyes worried when they’re on him and murderous when they turn to Deidara. It must be nice to have someone care him like that.  
  
“What happened?” the skinny one with the giant blade asks. Those sharp teeth of his remind Deidara of Kisame.  
  
Sasuke nods to Deidara, keeping his eyes on him. “He’s more powerful than he looks.”  
  
Deidara’s jaw unclenches a little bit, realizing that he hasn’t failed by not being able to kill Sasuke. He stood on somewhat equal ground with one of the last remaining Uchihas, history’s most prodigious clan.  
  
“Did he tell you what you wanted to know?” the bigger one asks calmly, sizing Deidara up on the ground.  
  
“No, but he told me what he knew. That’s all I wanted. Let’s go.” Sasuke leans onto the woman a bit more for support. Now that he’s admitted Deidara was more of a challenge than expected, he’s open about the extent of his injuries.  
  
Deidara thinks to himself quickly as they begin to walk away. Sasuke had said he was more powerful than he looked, but that was not enough for him. He wanted to be more powerful than Sasuke, than Itachi. If he had his way, his art would know no limits in power, and all this time in the Akatsuki was just a strain on his attention to its importance to him. He considered it for a second.  
  
Tobi was nowhere in sight; Deidara couldn’t even sense his chakra. He apparently thought of Deidara was easy to dispatch—if all those times he wept thinking the blonde was dead during the fight was any evidence. There was no way for him to know what had become of Deidara. Deidara didn’t even need to leave a trace of himself behind. Explosives tended to work like that.  
  
The weight of the ring on his finger suddenly feels like several hundred pounds, holding him down like a boulder. The thought has now permeated his brain, probing at all the possibilities he could explore. The Akatsuki has chained him in place. They never gave him the freedom to do what he pleased like Sasori and Hidan. He was apparently the unruly child that would cause them more trouble than some guy with a giant scythe sacrificing people to a false prophet.  
  
“Wait!” Deidara orders as Sasuke’s group is beginning to disappear in the foliage.  
  
They all turn back to him, eyeing him curiously. The woman still looks on him with mostly disgust, but the thin one almost appears to admire him from the glint in his purple eyes and delighted smirk on his face. It is just a fraction of the expression Deidara wants people to look on him with.  
  
Deidara hastily pulls the Akatsuki ring off his finger and holds it up sacrificially. “I don’t know how much it will help, but that’s how they call us to meetings.”  
  
“Won’t you be needing it?” the woman speaks for the first time. Her eyebrows have encroached several inches of her forehead.  
  
Deidara shakes his head. “Not anymore.”  
  
The big guy encloses it in his fist. He falls back a few steps. “Thank you.”  
  
Deidara faces Sasuke one final time, sees the acknowledgement somewhere in the abyss of his black eyes. He nods to Sasuke, who nods back. They leave him still sitting in the grass.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please be sure to tell me what you think! each read, kudos, and comment is appreciated! :-)


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNINGS: GORE AND SELF MUTILATION
> 
> mostly just a background chapter--giving more detail about deidara's past
> 
> enjoy!

Deidara wastes no time in gathering himself. He isn’t entirely sure what his plan is after he stages his death—the task currently taking up most of his attention—but he knows that the closest shinobi village is Konohagakure.  
  
There is no way he can go back to Iwagakure. If they even accepted him back, they would want him to go back into the Demolitions Unit, which he was not willing to do. Or they would accept him back and cut off his arms. He should have never completely defaulted away from the village. Although there was almost nothing for him in the village, there was a sense of security he had felt—protected by a government that still didn’t like him. Still, Iwa was a no-go.  
  
Plus, if the Akatsuki found out he wasn’t dead and had abandoned them, he soon would be. And Iwagakure was infamous for having hired them for mercenary purposes before.  
  
Maybe, he thinks as he opens and deepens one of the wounds on his arms from the fight with a kunai, he will go to Konohagakure. His information there could be valuable, and as far as he knew, they had no Demolitions Unit since they had no shinobi with an explosive Kekkai Genkai. Yes, he thinks as he flings his arm spewing blood like a fountain around the area, he will go to Konoha.  
  
Deidara patches up his arm with a makeshift bandage made of—mostly—sterile clay. He surveys the area with his eyes. It looks like a murder scene for sure, but it is incomplete. Explosions don’t leave a nice, neat mess of just blood. There should be organs and intestines thrown haphazard, tendons and muscles hanging like streamers from trees. He would know that.  
  
But he can’t leave any of those things behind.  
  
He looks at his hands, the nimble fingers they branch out into. He’s already lost too much blood to cut off an appendage.  
  
Then, a stroke of luck graces him, and he finds the two teeth Sasuke knocked from his gums on the forest floor. It’s not much, but it’s something he’s willing to offer without seriously maiming himself.  
  
One of the teeth still has the roots attached; he could probably have it put back. Almost tempted, he touches the tooth with a finger on his other hand. Still, he can’t bring himself to do it; this is what he has to leave behind. Besides, he was sure lots of shinobi didn’t have teeth. There was probably a very nice denture specialist in Konohagakure.  
  
Deidara lobs his teeth into the forest. They wouldn’t just be lying there on the ground after an explosion. If Tobi came looking, he would probably find them. He loved scavenger hunts.  
  
With the last of his clay, he weakly lets his tired hands mold his chakra into it. Surprisingly, they’ve chosen to make them into birds. He sets them down and limps a safe distance away before lifting two fingers.  
  
“Katsu,” he mumbles without an ounce of force.  
  
Nevertheless, the explosives go with off without a trip, shaking the earth underneath his feet. There’s a crater scarred into the forest floor—his deathbed. Weary, he blinks a few times before turning to head towards the city he knows is only a couple of miles from where the fight took place. It would have been out of range from his C0 technique, so that leaves it a little more than 6 miles. It will be quite a walk in the condition he’s in, but he’ll get there. If he keeps pressure on his arm and he doesn’t stop, hopefully he’ll get there by nightfall.

-

Darkness has long settled across the plain when Deidara reaches the outskirts of the small city. There are a few run-down houses along the dusty, dimly lit path, but there is no sign of an inn of any sorts. It is disappointing, considering that Deidara did not have much money and didn’t know how long he would need to recuperate. Inns in the inner city would be much more luxurious and, therefore, much more expensive.  
  
Life in the Akatsuki had never been particularly lavish. The crappy inns in the slums outside of cities and markets were paradise compared to the rocky, sometimes wet interiors of caves. It was a refreshing change to go from the smell of animal droppings to alcohol.  
  
Sometimes, Deidara went weeks without a shower—going two months without one wasn’t uncommon. Sasori never particularly complained since he had no sense of smell, but sometimes, he would comment on the fact that Deidara’s face was hardly recognizable beneath the layers of soot from explosions and dirt from sleeping on the forest floors. Sasori had the luxury of never having to shower, never having to step out of that fucking shell if he wanted to. Whenever he could, Deidara bathed in the creeks where he would stock up on clay, but the water was usually rank if they were near a city. Even if the dirt and grime was gone, he still smelled.  
  
It was imperative he be careful not to get sick since there would be hardly any money for medical treatment. If anyone was getting money allocated for medicine, it was Itachi; he was sick all the time. Deidara was once told a long time ago that was lucky to have Sasori as a partner. Sasori’s basic understanding of human anatomy due to his poisons made him more competent than some of the others when it came to administering medical treatment. Additionally, when he was younger, his grandmother had taught him some basics to medical ninjutsu. This was only for trivial wounds, however. Sasori could not help with serious things, so there were two incidents when the puppeteer was forced to help Deidara with other means.  
  
The first was when Deidara had first joined the Akatsuki and had large, festering blisters on his feet from being unaccustomed to walking so much. The issue about not showering, not being clean, caused an infection. As Sasori literally dragged Deidara for days back to Amegakure, the infection grew increasingly worse. Between bouts of unconsciousness, Deidara woke once to see Sasori outside of Hiroko for the first time. Though the sight of the redhead very much interested him, Deidara still wished he had never roused to consciousness because when he saw his partner for the first time, he also saw his feet in their sorry condition, swollen and weeping pus from the open blisters. The veins in his feet were prominent, pulsing, trying to pump antibodies there to wipe out the invading contamination. Necrotizing flesh smelled worse than he ever had. Had he not been so weak from the fever, Deidara thinks he would have screamed. Sasori had noticed Deidara was awake and told him to close his eyes. Deidara followed the redhead’s orders for once.  
  
Deidara reflects back on this time as he thinks of just finding a narrow alleyway to shelter in for the night. Remembering it makes his stomach churns with nausea. Sasori was not here with him; he’s on his own for real now. The redhead was always the wiser of the two, but all that changed when Sasori died and Tobi came around. Then, Deidara felt he was supposed to be the responsible one, having seniority in the Akatsuki and all.  
  
But Deidara is still practically a child, and it was hard to adjust to Sasori’s meticulousness and experience not being there to somewhat guide him.  
  
Thinking in his best interests, Deidara decides to keep walking until he finds somewhere somewhat clean to sleep. He looks down at his sore arms. Those could develop an infection even quicker than his feet did, and that would be a problem. Sasori was not here to help him—nor was Tobi. It’s strange to Deidara when he feels a pang of longing for both of his former partners.  
  
Up ahead, there’s a small building with the lights still on. The door is wide open and Deidara can hear a bit of chatter going instead. As he gets closer, he realizes it’s a tavern. There may be a room upstairs for him to use for the night. Still, he doesn’t want to use money if he doesn’t have to. Looking back to his arms again, he decides to make a scene. There would be less questions asked if a man desperately in need of help came stumbling through the door. He can only hope they’ll be willing to help.  
  
Carefully, he walks to the side of the road and unties his headband from his forehead. This too now feels heavy in his hands. The Iwa headband stands for nothing anymore; he isn’t an Iwa ninja, and he isn’t a part of the Akatsuki anymore either. There’s a bag of trash sitting nearby, but he has to do something first.  
  
He ties the headband into his mouth to silence any noise he may make. As his breathing accelerates, he gingerly picks at the end of the makeshift, clay bandage covering his wound. Just touching the compress hurts even though he has no direct contact with the slash. To make the least amount of fuss possible, he would have to rip it off quickly, he decides.  
  
The headband stifles his breathing a bit as his fingers grip the edge of the bandage in hand. Slowly, Deidara lets a breath out of his nose before sucking a deep one back. He stares at the bandage, tells himself to do it though he knows it will hurt. A countdown ticks in his head down from ten.  
  
Upon one, Deidara grips the bandage tighter and pulls as hard as he can, ripping the bandage caked to his skin off. It takes flesh with it. At least the headband effectively serves its purpose of stifling his screams.  
  
Blood doesn’t exactly gush from the wound, but it isn’t completely done flowing either. The bandage had done well to stop it before, but its sudden absence allows for the red fluid to resume its course. Deidara throws the compress towards the trash bag and then rips the headband away from his mouth, breathing rapidly in through his mouth. Next, he tosses the headband alongside the bandage in the trash. He kicks up dirt over the blood he spilled back in the alleyway.  
  
Wobbly, he takes a few cautious steps towards the small staircase leading up to the tavern’s door. There are only four men inside, including the bartender. They’re all laughing.  
  
“Please,” Deidara croaks out as he melodramatically stumbles through the door. “Help me.” He walks as crookedly as possible, bumping tables and chairs along the way. His free hand has staunched blood flow coming from the weaker of his arms. He demands that the hands remain shut until he orders them open again.  
  
“What the fuck?” one of the men exclaims, turning in his stool at the bar.  
  
Surprisingly, one of the men and bartender rush to his aid, concerned. Deidara is beginning to feel light-headed, but his body feels so heavy. One of the men grabs him by the shoulders, dragging his failing body over to the bar.  
  
“Help me,” the man who has him growls to the lazy two that still sit there. They reluctantly hop into action.  
  
Together, the four all work to lift him up onto the countertop. The bartender begins scurrying around behind the bar, and one of the men joins him behind it. They find a heavy-looking orange box and slam it down on the counter near Deidara’s head. One of the other men has found a clean rag and pressed it to Deidara’s arm that is still weeping blood.  
  
The bartender begins to ransack the box on the bar, hands pushing and shoving things around to discover the materials he needs. A bottle of clear liquid is brought out while the other hand still desperately searches. Deidara’s vision is blurring a bit, and he wonders if taking the bandage off at all was a mistake. It could very well kill him now.  
  
“What the hell happened to him?” one of the men asks from above him, his eyes roaming all over Deidara’s injuries. The eyes meet with his quickly before the man looks around their tiny formation.  
  
“I bet one of those gangs got to him. The police force hasn’t done shit about them,” the man holding the rag to Deidara’s arm offers with a growl.  
  
The bartender finds his next objects—a sewing needle and thread. As he goes to assess Deidara’s arm, he pauses on his face. “I’ve never seen him before,” he tells the other men, eyes narrowing. “Are you one of those Konoha ninja?” he addresses Deidara now.  
  
“He’s losing blood. Let’s patch him up first then ask questions,” the man next to the bartender tells him.  
  
The bartender nods and takes the rag away from Deidara’s arm before making a tourniquet out of it. “Put something in his mouth. I don’t want him to bite off his tongue.”  
  
One of his hands wraps around the bottle of liquid as another rag is stuffed into Deidara’s mouth, pressing his tongue down but forcing his jaw to remain open. Silence consumes the room as the bartender lifts the bottle of liquid, gives Deidara an apologetic look, and dumps the fluid all over his arm. The wound bubbles and brews as the antiseptic fights the bacteria in it. Deidara hisses into the towel, but he does not scream. It hurts little in comparison to what he did earlier.  
  
The wound is pinched and pulled as the bartender tends to it. The look of focus on his features reassures Deidara that he’s at least committed to saving his life. All three of the other men are watching the bartender too as he sews the two flayed pieces of flesh back together. After what feels like a very long time to Deidara, the bartender steps back.  
  
“There,” he says evenly, turning to look back at Deidara.  
  
Deidara is already unconscious.

-

A hand gently shakes Deidara awake. He feels awfully comfortable for the position he remembers being in last night. Blearily, his crusty eyes open to squint up at the bartender hovering over him with an even expression. The rest of the room is filled with boxes and cylinders full of supplies. It appears to be a storage room, but Deidara is rested on a cot with a thin blanket thrown over him.  
  
“Minho went to find the Konoha ninja in the city,” the bartender informs Deidara. From behind him, he produces Deidara’s headband. “I found this outside in this morning when I went to throw away the towels we used on you last night.” He places it on Deidara’s abdomen. “If this means something bad, now would be the time to escape.”  
  
Deidara blinks sleepily, still exhausted. “Why are you helping me?”  
  
“We take care of each other around these parts,” the bartender says firmly, crossing his arms over his chest. The thin lips form a flat line—no smile.  
  
“You don’t even know me,” Deidara replies, still confused. The treatment he received last night was a best case scenario; he hadn’t honestly expected things to go that smoothly.  
  
“Exactly,” the man says, eyes boring down on Deidara. “I don’t know if you’re good or bad.” He shrugs his broad shoulders and walked off, shutting the door of the storage room behind him.  
  
Deidara sits up on the cot, staring after the man. The headband slides off his stomach down to the cot, nestling into his side. Deidara swings his legs over the bed and looks down at his hands. The painted nails are chipping; they always chip after fights.  
  
Sasori was the one who painted them for the first time. It was the second time Deidara had ever seen him crawl out from the shell of Hiroko. It was after Deidara’s infection had subsided, and they were back out on the road again. Every part of Deidara was itching to go bathe in the nearby stream, but Sasori had told him no because they would be staying a motel within the next few days. Underneath the excuse, Deidara knew Sasori was trying to prevent another incident from following so closely on the heels of the first. Deidara complained that he was sick of looking at all the crap under his nails, and Sasori had sighed within Hiroko before emerging from a latch in the top. He sat beside Deidara and adroitly painted his nails charcoal black until Deidara’s looked like his own perfect nails with turquoise paint. Then he moved onto to Deidara’s toenails, his nose not even wrinkling at the scars now that covered the blonde’s feet. When Deidara asked what the deal with nail polish was, Sasori looked up from the ground, his brown eyes glowing in the firelight. Hadn’t Deidara noticed all the Akatsuki members did it?  
  
None of them liked seeing the dirt under their nails either.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading! please be sure to tell me what you thought/think! :-) and sorry for any typos


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> hiii everyone!
> 
> sorry it's been a few weeks i was busy with holidays and such, hope everyone had a good holiday season and happy new year!
> 
> this chapter is a little bit filler-y, mostly introductions to kakashi and sakura in deidara's eyes
> 
> hope you enjoy!

“Kakashi, the Copy Ninja,” Deidara greets when the silver-haired man walks through the door. He is dressed in a large, light gray cloak that hid most of his body, but Deidara still perceives his arm moving to the kunai pouch on his hip.  
  
Kakashi’s posture remains rigid, eye narrowing. “What do you want, Akatsuki?”  
  
“The name’s Deidara,” Deidara responds with a sigh, no longer wanting to be tied to the organization. “Then again, any bingo book probably tells you that.” He smiles mischievously.  
  
Kakashi doesn’t answer, still squinting at Deidara on the cot.  
  
Deidara’s eyes shift to the jonin’s hip before he smirks. “You can set the kunai down. I’m not going to try anything.”  
  
“I’m fine,” Kakashi replies evenly, not moving an inch of his body.  
  
“I am far too beat up to fuck with you,” Deidara tells him, beginning to sink back into the bed despite the tense aura. “Sasuke did quite the number on me.”  
  
“What did you do to Sasuke?” Kakashi asks, his voice just a bit fiercer. “We lost his chakra signature yesterday.” As much as he didn’t want to believe it, this guy had taken down Gaara. Anything was possible with the Akatsuki; the more members he met, the more he was assured of that assumption.  
  
Deidara chuckles and shakes his head. “I didn’t kill him if that’s what you mean.” He puts his hands behind his head, the arm with stitches pulsing.  
  
“Then where is he?” Kakashi questions. Now, he is just confused by the Akatsuki member sitting in front of him. The more they talk Kakashi is convinced Deidara really isn’t interested in fighting.  
  
Deidara’s tongue clicks in annoyance. “I don’t know.”  
  
Everyone only wanted to know where the Uchihas were. These people highly valued Sasuke, whose only priorities lied within Itachi. Jealousy builds in Deidara just thinking about how people admire those two when they hadn’t done anything to deserve it. Itachi killed with no design while Deidara put beautiful work into his killings. It pisses him off to no end, and he desperately hopes that this conversation doesn’t turn into another inquisition about an Uchiha.  
  
The kunai connects with the column of Deidara’s throat. One of Deidara’s eyes opens to observe his surroundings. Kakashi is standing above him now, glowering with intent. The cloak is pushed back to let his arm free.  
  
“Tell me what you know,” Kakashi demands. His voice grows more frustrated each time he responds.  
  
Deidara opens the other eye and rolls them both, sitting up again, the kunai blade pressing harder to his throat. If he wanted, all Kakashi had to do was apply a little more pressure and what little blood Deidara had left in him would spill all over the sheets.  
  
“How about a deal?” Deidara proposes, smirking.  
  
Kakashi scoffs. “How about you tell me what you know and I take you back to Konoha prisoner instead of killing you here and now?” The snarl in his voice is determined to show Deidara the seriousness of this situation.  
  
“Alright,” Deidara says, nodding. “Take me back to Konoha and I’ll tell you everything I know.” He claps his hands together enthusiastically, happy to get his way.  
  
Kakashi lowers the kunai. “What?”  
  
“Take me back to Konoha,” Deidara repeats. “I’ll tell you what I know about Sasuke.” Jokingly, he offers up a pinky finger as a sign of promise.  
  
“You... you want me to take you prisoner... back to Konoha?” Kakashi points at himself then to Deidara then over his shoulder in the direction of the village respectively.  
  
Deidara nods encouragingly.  
  
Kakashi’s eye squints and then widens. Deidara can see the gears smoking in his head, trying to turn and grind out what exactly Deidara is saying. There is nothing too deep behind it; Deidara has defected from the Akatsuki, and now, he needs safety, security.  
  
“What’s your angle?” Kakashi asks, disbelief thinly veiled in his voice. The floorboards creak as he takes a miniscule step backwards. “What do you want, Deidara?”  
  
“I want to go back to Konoha,” Deidara replies, reiterating. Again, he rolls his eyes, slouching in posture. This may take a while before the jonin believes him—and rightly so. Deidara did expect whoever was taking him in to be hesitant.  
  
Kakashi sighs. “I understand that.” He crosses his arms over his chest, cloak shifting with his body. “Why?” His eye scrolls over Deidara, trying to gauge some sort of judgement.  
  
“I’m not saying anything until you take me there, hm!” Deidara protests, trying to get his way quicker. He mimics Kakashi with his arms crossed over his chest, but his, however, are bit sorer and he has to gingerly fold them into position.  
  
“I’m not taking you anywhere until you tell me why,” Kakashi retorts, resolving to be just as stubborn as Deidara. He bends so he’s eye-level with the blonde; it’s like arguing with 12 year old Naruto. Hell, even 16 year old Naruto could be like this.  
  
“Then I guess we’re stuck or you’re leaving me,” Deidara snaps before turning his head away. He knows that everything or nothing will happen to him; Kakashi is either going to kill him (unwise) or take him in (logical).  
  
Silence befalls the two of them as Kakashi considers his options. If Deidara doesn’t challenge him to a fight, Kakashi doesn’t want to kill him. Like Deidara said, he holds some very valuable information about various things. The potential of Konoha’s gain if Kakashi takes him prisoner, no questions, is high. However, Deidara is practically a walking bomb. Any other member of the Akatsuki didn’t have the same probability of literally blowing up the village. Deidara knows Kakashi will be smart; or at least he hopes.  
  
Kakashi’s eye is stuck on Deidara’s hands. He doesn’t pull it away even when Deidara shifts a little bit, uncrossing his legs. Deidara pushes his palms out in Kakashi’s direction, giving sight of his infamous hands. The tongues fall out of their mouths, teasing almost.  
  
“Nothing,” Deidara says as if to reassure the older man. “You can check my pouches too, my person if you want. There’s nothing. I’m not trying anything.”  
  
“Missing your ring, I see,” Kakashi says suddenly, ignoring Deidara’s earlier statements. “Did it fall off?” The eye darts up to Deidara’s, which have fallen to his ring finger.  
  
It hasn’t been that long since he discarded it, so it’s practically in Deidara’s nature to assume it’s still there. There were times at the beginning where he hated wearing it—where it felt too tight—but he had grown used to its presence. He had tolerated its presence, accepted it for what it was, what it was doing there.  
  
“No,” Deidara replies honestly, finally making eye contact with Kakashi again.  
  
Deidara’s expression when he first remembered the thing was not there must have been laughable since it roused a chuckle from Kakashi.  
  
“You took it off?” Kakashi inquires, rocking back onto his ankles. Now, there is a delighted twinkle in the eye for some odd reason. Deidara sees the pleased light, but there is also something enigmatic in the look.  
  
Deidara nods but does not verbally respond.  
  
Kakashi straightens, putting his kunai back in the pouch at his hip. He nonchalantly pushes some of his hair back. “How soon will you be ready to go?”  
  
Deidara’s mouth opens, but no words come out again. He can’t believe that was all it took for Kakashi to assess that he would take Deidara with him. Does the ring really stand for that much overall?  
  
Deidara tries to push himself to his feet, eager to leave immediately, but one of Kakashi’s hands holds him down in place. Deidara looks at the hand, surprised to see it there on his shoulder. “What are you doing?”  
  
“You’re heavily injured,” Kakashi reminds him, pointing to his bandaged arm. “I’m not going to take you with me just to have you die along the way.” His eye crinkles up. “I’ve never seen someone so urgent to be taken hostage.”  
  
Deidara lets out a nervous chuckle. “Yeah, well, I don’t like sitting exposed.”  
  
Technically, Deidara has no affiliation now. He isn’t even in the clutches of the Hidden Leaf’s judicial system yet. It would be no pleasant or guaranteed thing—brokering for his freedom—but it would be necessary to be safe. The Akatsuki could have already discovered the truth within a day; they could already be searching for him. If what Iwa would do to him made him shudder, he couldn’t begin to imagine what the Akatsuki would do to him in his worst nightmares.  
  
“We weren’t even planning to leave for another day,” Kakashi tells him as if it’s reassuring. The statement holds no placation in Deidara’s mind. “Though I suppose... now that we’ve lost Sasuke’s trail, we could probably leave earlier.” Kakashi holds a hand to his jaw. “But that wouldn’t make up for the fact that you’re still too weak.”  
  
“I can go!” Deidara protests, trying to rise again. He knows he’s sore for sure, but he also knows his limits—knows he can push through this.  
  
“I can see if our medic ninja would be willing to heal you,” Kakashi continues, ignoring Deidara’s objections from beneath him. “No guarantee, but it would save some time. And stop you from worrying your head off.”  
  
“Can you just ask him?” Deidara begs, hoping that this is the way to get out of this shabby city that day.  
  
Kakashi laughs, stifled through his mask. “ _She_ won’t be very happy about it.”  
  


-

  
Based off what Kakashi told Deidara about her, he is surprised to see Sakura barge through the storage room’s door a few hours after their conversation came to a close. She is not quiet or even accommodating to his condition.

Deidara tries to sit up to help her out, but her hand reaches out, grabbing him by the throat, and slams him back down against the cot with brute force that could rival Kisame’s. It’s been quite a while since the shark man had slapped him on the back for a job well done. Deidara is astonished he doesn’t break through the cot and the floorboards because of Sakura.

“Fuck, Pinky, take it easy on me,” Deidara gripes through a hoarse throat as she drops to her knees beside the bed.

Green eyes flash up to his. “Shut up!” she demands as her hands begin to glow a similar color over his injuries.

Kakashi comes to stand in the doorway, observing impartially and silently. He’s wearing an apathetic expression that tells Deidara he should it would be apt to do the same. Deidara, however, is not capable of keeping quiet when he realizes that this is the very same girl that took out Sasori.

“How’d you do it?” Deidara asks her as she focuses on her healing.

Her brows furrow farther together in her confusion and frustration. “Do what?” she snaps back at him after a minute.

“Kill my man Sasori,” he replies instantaneously. He is aware she is ridiculously strong, but that would not have been enough to take out the Sasori he knew.

There had been many times where Deidara had challenged his former partner to a duel out of boredom or anger. Though Deidara could be a bit of a challenge to him, Sasori was always able to dispatch him. Even when Deidara was serious, Sasori seemed to take him as a game, but that was just Sasori’s way sometimes. He took everything but fighting seriously.

“Shut up,” Sakura replies again, going back to her work on his arm.

Deidara feels her probing around in his wounds with her chakra, assessing and revitalizing quickly but thoroughly. He stares at the ceiling then, resolved not to talk if she will only tell him to shut up. When she finishes on his first arm, she moves to the second, the one with the deeper of the two wounds. She leans over him on the bed, stretched over his body. Deidara isn’t able to help himself and quickly runs his eyes over her body. Surely, in the midst of her focus, she won’t notice.

“Take your eyes off me,” she orders gruffly.

“Hm!” Deidara grunts back to her, making his eyes face the ceiling again. Secretly, he inwardly smiles at the thought of a pretty girl standing over him.

Kakashi is the first to break the silence that follows that interaction.

“I’m sure Deidara appreciates what you’re doing very much, Sakura,” he says from his position in the doorway. Kakashi sends the blonde a glance as a hint then nods to Sakura.

Sakura interjects before Deidara can even begin to understand the clue. “I don’t need his thanks. I’m doing it for Sasuke, and that’s it.” She sits down on the end of the cot and hoists a leg into her lap. Her hands glow again, illuminating the dark corners of the room.

Deidara watches her, curious, but responds with, “Your boyfriend did this to me.”

“He’s not my boyfriend,” she tells him firmly but not angrily. Her eyes narrow on his leg where his injury is far deeper than she expected.

Deidara thinks back to the redheaded woman that he encountered out in the woods that rushed to Sasuke’s side. Perhaps that was Sasuke’s lover; maybe it was one of the two men he saw. He is too good-looking to not have a significant other, Deidara thinks. He looks a lot like his brother, and Deidara initially found Itachi very attractive before the Uchiha had insulted his art. There is nothing more unattractive to Deidara than someone as uncultured as the Uchihas are.

Sakura finishes both of Deidara’s legs before she settles back down on her knees on the floor again. She scoots over, floorboards groaning in protest of her weight. With one hand, she flips up the end of Deidara’s scraggly, gray shirt until it reaches his collarbone. Her eyes show no signs of desire as she pans Deidara’s abdomen for any wounds before settling on an ugly bruise, higher up by his sternum.

“Careful,” Deidara warns absently as she eyes the mouth sewn shut on his chest. “That’s not an injury.”

“I didn’t ask,” Sakura snaps back, the green glowing brighter as she averts her attention to the bruise and the light internal bleeding beneath it. “I was just observing.”

Deidara moves his back to Kakashi in the doorway. “Is she the only one with you?” He’s curious as to how the rest of the group will react to his presence. He’s never met anyone other than these two, the jinchuuriki, the Uchihas, and—briefly—a few others from Konoha before. Their reactions may not be quite as repulsed.

“I sent Naruto and the others ahead,” Kakashi tells him calmly. “It was for the best,” he explains when Deidara’s eyes flicker. Kakashi reaches around in his kunai pouch as Sakura continues to work silently on the bruise. He retrieves his book and puts his nose between the folds.

Deidara eases into Sakura’s healing chakra, more relaxed now that he’s convinced she means to mend not maim. He’s not used to this special treatment of professional medical ninjutsu. He’s received Kakazu and Konan’s butchered forms of it, which were helpful at the time but nothing close to the real deal.

The Akatsuki never adopted any real medic-nin into their ranks, which always confused Deidara. There were plenty of medic-nin out there that were suited for healing and combat. It would have saved everyone a lot of pain if they had just had even one or two. One for him and then another for Kisame and Itachi’s team would have been ideal. They were the only ones who could really get hurt, but Hidan would have healed faster if they’d given one to the Zombie Combo too. Konan would have needed one, but she usually just tended to the leader’s orders back at the main hideout, never in harm’s way. It wasn’t as if they couldn’t have recruited—or rather forced—any; they just didn’t find the necessity behind it. Only was it put under serious consideration when Deidara’s infection had almost killed him and it was clear Itachi’s condition was not getting better. Still, nothing was done, and instead, they had just told Deidara to be careful and asked Sasori to watch out for him.

Deidara almost jumps out of his skin when Sakura leans down and places her palms gently on his head, lifting him up a little bit. Easily, she could apply a little bit of pressure and pop Deidara’s head like a melon, he knows. Her fingers weave into his hair matted with his blood from an overlooked head wound.

“Sasuke did fuck you up,” Sakura whispers lightly, staring into the tangle at the crown of Deidara’s head.

“Hm!” Deidara responds—not in complete agreement.

When Sasuke had departed, he had been on unstable legs. Deidara imagines one of the members of his little group was a medic ninja of some sort that was able to help him. If that member helped Sasuke, Deidara would sleep okay knowing he had dealt out some sort of damage, but it wasn’t enough.

His art should have been grand enough that Sasuke’s team had to bury him.  


-

  


Deidara follows behind the two Konoha ninja, keeping up while still taking his time. Though he does not tell her, Deidara thinks Sakura did a wonderful job at patching him up. The girl had done absolute wonders on him, and she didn’t even like him, so he can’t imagine the kinds of results he would have gotten if she had been an ally.

Occasionally, one of the two glances over their shoulder to make sure he is still following behind them. With a renewed arm, he waves up to them, reassuring them of his attentions to follow. As a precaution, they restrained him with chakra tethers, but for the most part, he can move freely about. Trying to wield any chakra hurts him, so he gives up on that quickly.

They’re making good time according to Kakashi when they slow to a stop so Deidara can take a breather. Deidara thinks that this must be the nicest hostage treatment anyone has received in years. Then again, he’s also being pretty complaint, and he also asked to be taken into Konoha. Though their suspicions aren’t alleviated of him, Deidara is sure they’re trying to establish some sort of trust by letting him run on his own. However, he’s also sure that their efforts to assure themselves of his good behavior when they report to the Hokage.

“Why don’t you go on ahead, Sakura?” Kakashi tells Sakura, placing a hand on her shoulder.

Her jade eyes have been impatiently scouring Deidara’s bent frame since they stopped. Deidara is far too busy with his hands on his knees trying to catch his breath to meet her eyes, but he can sure feel them. Though her healing was efficient—the best treatment he’s had for an ailment in years—there is only so much she can do. Deidara’s body has still gone through a trauma; it will be at least a week before he feels completely himself again.

“You sure?” Sakura asks, eyes still peeled to Deidara a few yards away.

“Yes,” Kakashi reassures, his head cocking to the side a little as he smiles. “You can tell Lady Hokage that we’ve got a present for her.” He pats her on the shoulder again to urge her onward.

Sakura nods her head, obeying orders within her to ditch Deidara rather than Kakashi’s suggestion. She pauses before her legs can completely propel herself forward. Carefully, her fingers slide along her waistband and reach the small, tan pouch hooked onto her. She unlatches it and tosses the light object to Deidara, hitting him in the ribs.  
“Those should help,” she tells him absently, not caring if they actually do or not.

Deidara observes the pouch on the forest floor beside him. “What are they?” He cannot see what’s inside.

“Soldier pills,” she remarks, getting ready to launch into the treetops again.

“Wait,” Deidara calls to her, finally straightening into a stand.

He smiles at her when she looks back over her shoulder at him, not sure what she’s expecting him to say. Deidara is volatile—that much is clear. Nothing he says should surprise, but she’s sure it will anyway because everything she’s been told about him is different than what she’s seen in the past few hours.

“Make sure the jinchuuriki isn’t lying in wait for me outside the village,” Deidara tells her, a laugh trying to break through his panting. “It would be a shame for him to rip out my throat after all the hard work you’ve done.” He motions towards his fixed body, smile widening as Sakura rolls her eyes.

“Shut up,” she tells him before dashing off.

Deidara immediately sits on the ground and lays back, arms thrown carelessly. He attempts to suck in breath to his decimated lungs. It feels as though they’ve been shredded with sandpaper. Kakashi pulls out his book having realized a long time ago that Deidara was putting on a tough act for Sakura’s sake. If she was around, she would surely berate him for being a weakling.

“Take all the time you need,” Kakashi tells him, waving his hand as Deidara tries to sit back up. He is already enraptured in the book.

Deidara does as ordered and catches his breath in due time. Absently, he feels around for the food pills Sakura threw to him. When his fingertips graze the pouch, he stretches farther, ignoring the pain that shoots through his arm as he does so. He pulls the little purse up to himself and dumps a couple strange-looking pills into his hands. The pills look different than the last batch Sasori gave to him after the puppeteer swiped them off a corpse.

The consistency, Deidara thinks as he chews, is spongier. This would not be a bad thing necessarily if the taste wasn’t completely horrid. Still, Deidara has had worse. These are delicious in comparison to some of the gruel Deidara has chowed on in taverns before. Sometimes, the sight of meals he was about to deliver to his stomach was enough to make Deidara sick, let alone the food itself. Again, Sasori was lucky because he had never had to eat.

“You seem to be the first person to enjoy those,” Kakashi comments from where he was leaned up against a tree. He has lowered the book to observe Deidara’s feast on what Sai so appropriately termed ‘mud balls’.

Deidara lifts his head off the ground. “They ain’t bad compared to some of the shit I’ve eaten.” He lets his neck drop his head to the ground again gently. He puts another food pill in his mouth.

“I’m sure they’ll be comparable to whatever’s served in the Konoha prison for S-rank criminals,” Kakashi says unfiltered. It’s as though he can barely stop himself surprisingly.

There is something inside the jonin that wants to see what makes Deidara tick like a time-bomb. Kakashi wants to see just how serious this kid can be about wanting to defect to Konohagakure. What made someone want to revoke their ties to a lawless, fearsome gang like the Akatsuki? He must have been completely wretched, Kakashi thinks.

Deidara chuckles, chewing. “I’m not going to prison if I can help it.”

“How do you know that?” Kakashi asks, closing his book and sliding it in his kunai pouch. The nerve of the blonde is... unnerving. The confidence he exudes in himself is quite the impressive display.

“Well, this Lady Hokage of yours... is she a smart, reasonable woman?” Deidara asks, curiously. Should she not be, he is going to reevaluate the arguments he earlier accrued in defense of himself.

Kakashi shrugs, thinking of Tsunade. She certainly had a temper and a bit of a drinking problem, but unreasonable? Not quite. However, Deidara’s status makes him a bit of a wild card. The Hokage would have to approach punishment for him carefully. Deidara has valuable information that he would not freely give. He has the potential to be major asset to Konoha; Kakashi knows Deidara knows this of himself. There is no way the blonde is going to freely hand over information to be thrown in jail.

“She’s not a push-over,” Kakashi tells him after a moment of inner thinking. “You’ll have to do some heavy arguing with her.”

Kakashi has known the 5th Hokage for years; he knows what Tsunade is capable of. Deidara, however, he has known for several hours; he does not know what the former Akatsuki member is capable of. The powers of persuasion may very well be on his side. Kakashi’s intel can only provide so much information to him. Deidara could be a master manipulator for all Kakashi knows.

Deidara sits up and shrugs. “All I need is a comfortable mattress and some clay to pass the time.” His hands begin to mercilessly rip grass from the earth.

“Why did you leave the Akatsuki?” Kakashi tries, wondering if he will be more open to talking now that they’re on their way back to Konoha.

“It was getting in the way of my art,” Deidara answers without a moment’s hesitation. His eyes flicker up to Kakashi’s face, wavering to see if any disbelief lingers there.

“That’s it?” Kakashi’s distrustful tone almost sets Deidara off.

The Akatsuki used him just like the rest of the world had tried to—just like Konoha would if they didn’t throw him in jail forever... or execute him. There was no freedom in being manipulated like he was—molded to fit the perfect shape each person wanted him to be.

“That’s it.”

“Hm,” Kakashi hums.

Silence befalls them, and they set off again after about twenty minutes. Sakura’s food pills have provided Deidara with a much-needed burst of energy. They have settled in his stomach, thick and mucky.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading! every read, kudos, and comment is appreciated :-)


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hiiiii
> 
> sorry for any typos there may be
> 
> thank you for all your comments! i appreciate the support!

Deidara is not warmly welcomed into the village—much like he expected.  
  
It starts with the two guards at the gate refusing him entrance even though Kakashi is with him. Their suspicious eyes survey every inch of Deidara for the slightest sign of a threat, and they still don’t relax when they don’t find one. They tell Kakashi and Deidara they will have to wait for someone with more clearance.  
  
Next, when they receive permission from Tsunade to let Deidara in, Deidara is hounded by villagers in the streets while Kakashi leads him to the Hokage building. The rumors have not taken long to spread; it’s only been a few hours since all the others arrived back in the village. One of them must have a big mouth, Deidara figures.  
  
As Kakashi walks alongside Deidara, a second man comes up on Deidara’s other side, stern-featured. Wordlessly, he keeps stride with them for a few seconds before Kakashi notices the brunette on Deidara’s other side.  
  
“Yo, Tenzo,” Kakashi says as some form of greeting. One of his hands rises in a short wave.  
  
“Yamato,” the brunette corrects.  
  
Deidara lets out a sincere chuckle. However, he is starting to not feel so well. Maybe it is the lingering stares from the villagers or the proximity of Kakashi and Yamato to him on this summer day, packed full of sunshine and heat.  
  
“So this is him, huh?” Yamato assesses, trying to remain casual as they escort the criminal to Tsunade together.  
  
“I am right here,” Deidara says, eyes staring straight ahead. Sweat drips idly down his forehead.  
  
The perspiration is definitely from the incessant heat, not the pressure of the stares from countless eyes. Deidara has never been afraid of common folk, and he intends to not start being so now. He was not here to please or protect them; he was here for his art, for himself. There was no reason to ass-kiss villagers of no importance.  
  
“I-well, I...” Yamato starts before faltering.  
  
“How close are we to this Hokage’s office?” Deidara asks, squinting towards the sun. Not too much farther and he would surely feel worse.  
  
“Close,” Kakashi answers vaguely. “Did you make sure Naruto went home?” His voice is severe. Now that Deidara is in the heart of Konoha, there is no time for apathy or jokes.  
  
Yamato nods. “Yes, I was with him until Sakura came by. She said you were on your way in with the prisoner.”  
  
Deidara thinks that maybe he should correct Yamato, but he decides against it. By no means does he intend to remain a prisoner in Konoha, but as for right now, it appears that it is his status. Therefore, he figures he should justly flaunt it.  
  
“So you decided to come and help me out? Very considerate, but I’m afraid he seems to be tame at the moment.” Kakashi glances down at Deidara, no suspicion crossing his features.  
  
With all the hours that have passed between them, the former Akatsuki member’s presence has dulled his senses a bit. There seems to be no malcontent coming from Deidara. Not once has he implied a grander plan is in the works behind his capture... or surrender, Kakashi guesses. Judging by the look currently on the kid’s face, he’s happy to be in the claws of the law.  
  
“Bastard!” a rough voice calls out behind the trio.  
  
Deidara smirks, knowing already that Sakura has not succeeded in keeping the jinchuuriki contained. He is an expert at the clone jutsu after all. Deidara knows more than he cares to know about Naruto—based off intel and experience. The scratchy voice sends nostalgic feelings of pain through one of his arms and one through his chest.  
  
The last time Deidara had seen this kid was the last time he had seen Sasori.  
  
“Naruto,” Yamato warns, failing to finish as he notices Naruto has already began sprouting characteristics of the Kyuubi. His voice gains strength. “Naruto, turn around and go home.”  
  
Naruto is walking—no, stomping—towards them, kicking up dirt off the road. His fists are balled, ready for action. Kakashi pushes Deidara behind him as Yamato takes the front. Both of them seem reluctant to do anything since it is a crowded civilian market, but Naruto is making his advance and Deidara is under their protection as disgusted as they are by him.  
  
“This bastard tried to kill Gaara!” Naruto roars, breaking into a run down the road. “You think I’m just going to let him into my home?” His feet lift off the ground, and Deidara is mesmerized by the length of his leap.  
  
Thick, wooden branches shoot from both of Yamato’s arms, one to the target straight ahead and the hidden one that he catches with a Rasengan about a foot from Deidara’s head. The clone disappears in a puff of smoke, and Deidara’s neck bends his head back to make eye contact with Naruto dangling above him, snarling like a wild dog.  
  
“Nice diversion,” Deidara compliments him. “Not good enough though. Your teachers know you well.”  
  
Naruto spits on him.  
  
Kakashi grabs Deidara by the arms and turns him back in the direction of the Hokage tower, leaving Yamato and Naruto behind. Deidara hears Sakura yelling for Naruto somewhere off the distance. He wipes the spit off his face with the back of his hand.

  


-

  


“He surrendered... willingly?” Tsunade crosses her arms over her chest, one eyebrow raising as she observes Deidara on the other side of her cluttered desk in a chair Shizune has pulled up for him.  
  
Kakashi’s hands are in his pockets. “Yes, m’am.”  
  
“I’m confused,” Tsunade says, not taking her eyes from Deidara. Now, her statement seems to be directed to no one in general. She lays her thoughts bare as she tries to process.  
  
“I want to be here,” Deidara interjects with a smile. He knows he looks somewhat charming when he smiles, and maybe the Hokage can dig a younger man.  
  
Tsunade places her palms flat on her desk. “But why would you want to be here?” The eyebrow sinks back down to meet its brother in the middle of her forehead. “You’re an outlaw.”  
  
“I don’t want to be a part of the Akatsuki,” Deidara answers truthfully. “And I can’t go back to Iwa.” He shrugs and slouches a little bit in the chair, feeling slightly nauseated though trying to keep composure.  
  
“Rightfully so,” Shizune says from the corner with a file in hand.  
  
Tsunade holds a hand up in her direction, asking for quiet. It appears she has not even glanced at Deidara’s file; she wants to judge his character based off this interaction alone. Her eyes narrow, trying to make Deidara crack under the pressure her stare alone can exert. Kakashi is silent unless spoken to. He wants no influence in this state of affairs, but he has to be here to bear witness of his experience with Deidara.  
  
“You know why we’re suspicious of you, right?”  
  
A criminal who is aware of his crimes is one thing, and a criminal who sees no wrong in them is another. Tsunade wants to know which Deidara is.  
  
“Because I’ve done bad things,” Deidara says. There is no sarcasm in his tone. He knows people frown heavily upon his art.  
  
“You abandoned your home, and you were a mercenary. You killed people. Your records from when you were in Iwa aren’t spotless either. There were locations in this country you bombed because they sent you here. Why should we keep you around?”  
  
Deidara smirks. “Because I can do bad things for you too.”  
  
As much as he would rather stay out of the shinobi world as much as he can now, he knows it will be practically impossible. Another incentive must be provided to keep him around; his information may be enough to spare his life but not enough to let him live it. Kakashi was right when he said Lady Hokage was not a push-over. Deidara can’t even get her to budge, it seems.  
  
Tsunade sighs, pretending to be uninterested in Deidara’s offer, and stands up straight again before looking at Kakashi and then over at Shizune. Sighing yet again, she holds open her hand for Shizune to place the file in. The vanilla folder is relatively thin surprisingly.  
  
The Akatsuki has done well to make sure their members remain underground, but wherever Deidara goes, he leaves scars on the earth that won’t fade. He damages things that he’ll never repair. Like a tornado, he sweeps landscapes with fury, and people don’t know exactly what’s happened, but they never forget. The little blonde is the most sighted of the Akatsuki—the most infamous for being easy to find. Follow the sounds of explosions, and the freshest crater is where the treasure is buried.  
  
Tsunade frowns as she reads the file; she shakes her head and sighs some more. Occasionally, a glance is cast at Deidara in disbelief.  
  
“How much information do you have?” Tsunade asks, trying to feign indifference.  
  
“A lot,” Deidara answers vaguely. “I can tell you all about the Akatsuki members, where some of the hideouts are, and what their plans are.” His eyes crinkle up when he sees the intrigue, the desire flicker in Tsunade’s eyes. “I can tell you all the details.”  
  
“What about Sasuke?” Kakashi finally speaks of his own accord. He takes a step into Deidara’s sightline so the blonde gets a good look at the harsh stare he’s turning on.  
  
Sasuke is the whole reason Kakashi even considered taking Deidara back to the village, and Deidara knows this well enough. He knew exactly what the copy ninja had been looking for. What a shame it was that Kakashi’s intel provided him nothing about what a little weasel Deidara could truly be.  
  
Tsunade holds up a hand again, shooing Kakashi off. “Sasuke is of little to no importance right now.”  
  
The yearning in Tsunade’s face is easy to play off of for Deidara. It is because he knows it well. Sasori employed the same tactics when dragging Deidara’s stubborn ass around. Often, things were unfulfilled, but Deidara fell for Sasori’s manipulations far more than he cared to admit. Until he stopped dreaming of a future ahead of him, Deidara always had hopes for Sasori’s promises—whether they be about staying in an inn that night or talking about the essence behind his art.  
  
Deidara’s lips part, ready to disperse his final hook. “I can tell you how to destroy the Akatsuki.”  
  
His eyes brighten with delight at the prospect too. After all those years of suffering under their miserable lifestyle, Deidara would take an insane amount of joy in killing those fuckers. Being a snitch is the least of his worries now; he’s convinced he is safe in Konoha.  
  
Tsunade flips the file closed, staring at it for a few long, silent seconds afterwards. “Isolate him. Have him debriefed— _heavily_ debriefed. I want every inch of his mind explored, no corner left untouched. Have the Yamanakas do it. They’re thorough. If he manages to lock something away that they can’t access, execute him.”  
  
Deidara hopes she’s being dramatic.

  


-

  


Deidara is led by Shizune to an isolation cell in the dank basement of the Hokage tower. Kakashi has been dismissed and ordered to get much needed rest, which leaves Deidara without a guardian down the levels of the building. Shizune takes Deidara as her charge pretty willingly, confident in her abilities to supervise and catch any slip-up that may push for Deidara’s execution.  
  
“Would you like to shower?” she asks, clipboard against her chest as her heels click along the empty corridor.  
  
“Yes,” Deidara answers quickly, desperately.  
  
The thought of a shower, a clean shower, with water so hot it will scald his skin sounds like the best gift he could have ever been given. Even cold water sounds enjoyable at this point. Already, life in Konoha as a prisoner seems easier, more comfortable than life in the Akatsuki had ever been. Deidara likes the promise that he’s been told; he can almost imagine a future of living comfortably in this little containment facility if Tsunade decides to keep him locked up. At least he wouldn’t ever have to sleep on the floors of caves again. Tiles are better than piss-covered rocks.  
  
Shizune shows him to the showers and stands there as he strips off his shirt, chest covered in soot and fading bruises, Sakura’s handiwork. Warily, he sends her a look over his shoulder. Expressionless, she stares back at him. There is a tiny, pink pig at her feet, also watching him. Though she says nothing, the message is clear enough: Deidara is not to be left alone.  
  
“Hm!” Deidara grunts and grabs the waistband of his pants, sending them into a pool at his ankles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading! what did you think? every read, kudos, and comment is appreciated! :-)
> 
> sorry, this chapter is a little short, but the ball is really going to start rolling more from here on out. the next few chapters will involve deidara meeting ino and exploring some of his past. even though there is romance going to be involved, the story is mostly deidara-centric and revolves around many aspects of his life, including love. thanks for sticking with it in case you were expecting immediate romance!


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello everyone this chapter is just the beginning of the dip into deidara's past. please read the warnings below! if you feel the need to skip the chapter, feel free to comment below and i will give you a brief summary!
> 
> WARNING: mild gore and mentions of rape

Tsunade gives Deidara a few days to recover from his journey. Though Sakura’s healing was sufficient, he still feels exhausted and sleeps most of the days away on the thin mattress in his holding cell. It’s the best he’s slept in years anyways. If they had given a cot to sleep on, he would have been grateful. The Akatsuki certainly weren’t this kind with their prisoners of war.  
  
Daily, Shizune visits to check up on him as she reports directly to Tsunade. The guards’ reports don’t have quite the detail the Hokage wants, and Shizune knows the information she desires from Deidara. She asks Deidara a few questions about how he is feeling, if he is regretting his decision yet. He answers all her questions, and sometimes, he asks a few of his own. He even flirts a little bit on a whim. On the third day, Shizune brings him a stack of old magazines—like he had asked nicely.  
  
The fourth day starts differently because Deidara does not wake up to Shizune entering the cell. Instead, it is a different woman—or girl, rather—with longer, blonder hair than his own. She is dressed conservatively in slacks and a long-sleeved t-shirt stretched all the way down her thin arms. The blonde stops at the foot of his bed. Behind her, Sakura slips in, her green eyes assessing Deidara on his bed.  
  
“What’s up?” Deidara asks, amused.  
  
Two pretty girls in his room is nothing to complain about. Hell, even Shizune is nice to look at in comparison to the brutish, obstinate guards that occasionally peek in on him. Even though he is pretty sure Sakura wants his blood decorating her clothes, he still thinks she’s cute. Her companion, however, is definitely more of his type.  
  
“I’ll be okay, Sakura. You can wait outside.” The blonde turns her upper body to nod at Sakura. “He seems docile.”  
  
Although Deidara likes Konoha so far, everyone here has the nasty habit of talking as though he’s not in the room, as though he can’t hear them. Docile? What a quaint synonym for boring.  
  
Sakura nods back. “I’ll be outside. Call if you need anything.” She slips back outside of the heavy, steel door.  
  
“My name is Ino Yamanaka. I’ll be doing your debriefing,” Ino says with a little lilt in her voice. It’s the nicest anyone has talked to Deidara in years. “Please, take a seat in the chair.” She motions to one of the two chairs in Deidara’s stark white room.  
  
“So how’s this going to go?” Deidara asks as he climbs out of bed, adjusting his clothes. Fingers combing through his hair, he works out a few knots before sliding into the seat like Ino asked.  
  
Ino takes the other chair and moves it closer, almost on top of Deidara’s. Her legs spread wide as she stretches over the seat, leaning in so close to Deidara he believes she will kiss him. “I’m going to be using a special jutsu to get inside your head. It won’t be pleasant.”  
  
She seems to be all too delighted that there will be some kind of misery behind this investigation. Deidara notes that she is both hot and a bit of a sadist; he likes her already.  
  
“It’s going to hurt?” Deidara asks with a smirk. After all the pain he’s been through in recent days, it will probably feel like nothing.  
  
“No, not exactly. It will be physically painless,” Ino tells him calmly but unblinking. “I’ll be inside your head. There’s nothing you can hide from me.” She smirks, and it seems to Deidara she is almost curious and delighted to see what she’ll uncover.  
  
“Maybe we should bring Sakura in to hold my hand,” Deidara cracks, thinking that there is much Ino will not be interested in. Some parts of his life drag on, and there are some parts he can’t even remember, so they should be locked away.  
  
Ino smirks. “Okay, wise ass. Get all your laughs out now.” She places a hand on either side of his head, one on each temple. “I’ll begin when you’re ready.”  
  
“I’m ready when you are,” Deidara tells her, eager to get this process over with so he can continue on with whatever lies ahead of him in this village.  
  
Ino’s hands make a strange symbol. Deidara is going to ask what the hell kind of configuration it is, but he doesn’t get the chance. Next thing he knows, his neck has dropped his head back, his eyes on the ceiling and quickly blurring into white. The only thing he can feel is Ino folding over into his lap.  
  
In an instant, Deidara feels like he has been shoved into a corner of his own mind, shrunk to a miniscule version of himself. This little version of himself can’t control his own mind, can’t kick the other presence that takes up the rest of the space out. At first, this is frightening, not being in control, and he wonders what exactly is happening. Then, he feels Ino’s presence drifting through his subconscious, and he relaxes instantly. It is part of the process; he will remain lucid the whole time. Otherwise, Ino would have complete possession of him and he would be rendered completely helpless, virtually unconscious.  
  
“Let’s begin,” Ino’s voices twinkles out of the darkness.  
  
Deidara feels like he is being pulled through a vacuum. Something snakes around his imaginary wrist and pulled him into a vortex, making him almost nauseated.  
  
Then, he’s back in Iwa.  
  
Above him, there is a man and a woman smiling down at him. The woman’s hand reaches out and touches his head, fingers weaving through his then-short hair. He feels himself nuzzle up into the hand more. Deidara feels Ino watching the scene, but she is not physically implanting herself into the memory, just observing from an omniscient view.  
  
“Your mother and father?” she asks curiously.  
  
Deidara’s child form is still moving through the motions of the memory—his first memory. He is unaffected by Ino’s voice, and Deidara finds he is able to speak without interrupting the flow of a memory. It is like watching a movie from a first-person point of view.  
  
“My mother and my uncle. Her brother,” he informs her quietly. He is enthralled by the perfect portrayal of the events, too captured by his mother’s face to say anything else.  
  
Deidara’s mother and uncle lead him to a swing-set and set him on the little plank of wood. The wind can still be felt blowing across his skin, rising and falling over his ears and scraping past his arms. This appears to be a happy first memory, and though the appearance of his family brings feeling of melancholy to him, he’s happy to witness their faces again.  
  
Deidara is unaware how much time passes as Ino sifts through all his memories, going through them one at a time. In the earlier parts of his childhood, Ino speeds through his memories, everything fast-forwarded. Birthdays, academy days, falls and scrapes go by within seconds. Then, everything slows at once when they reach Deidara’s mid-childhood years, specifically when he was 8. Immediately, he knows what memory this is.  
  
“Stop,” Deidara demands roughly, no longer amused with Ino’s perusal of his memories.  
  
Ino does as commanded and presses pause. “Why?”  
  
“I don’t want to see this,” Deidara tells her honestly. Even though the moment which they’ve stopped on is uneventful, Deidara feels sick to his stomach knowing what follows.  
  
“I have to,” Ino tells him mercilessly and resumes.  
  
Deidara plays bystander to the memory of when he witnesses his screaming father being brought in by his uncle. His uncle dumps his father on the floor and collapses next to him. The medic ninja of his clan rush into the foyer to attend to their wounds. They can’t even be called that. They are not wounds; they are mutilations. There is blood everywhere.  
  
The one distinction noise he can hear is his mother screaming next to him. Deidara’s hand is fisted in her obi as he gazes at the bloody stumps where his father’s legs once were. They are burnt to a charcoal. Deidara smells the burnt flesh.  
  
His father is literally half the man he used to be.  
  
Ino lets the memory run its course before she pauses before the next one. “What happened?”  
  
“Didn’t you see it yourself?” Deidara snaps at her. “He was injured.”  
  
“But what happened?” Ino persists, her words demanding but her voice soft. “I need to know.” She pauses to see if he will answer. “It isn’t because I want to know. I have to know for Lady Hokage.” Though he cannot see her, her voice gives away the frown of her lips.  
  
“It’s dangerous for my clan to fight.” Deidara is still trying to be vague with her.  
  
“Why?” Ino digs.  
  
Deidara would roll his eyes if he could. “We have an _explosive_ kekkai genkai. Using it in close range combat is idiotic. My father was an idiot.” He seals his explanation thoroughly so she won’t have to ask anymore.  
  
“That explains what happened to your sister’s arm.” Ino’s recollection of an earlier memory sends a shiver down Deidara’s spine. He can feel himself shuddering back in the cell.  
  
Ino continues upon Deidara’s silence. She remains quiet as the memories slowly become darker, more morbid. She only asks questions where she is confused or something has happened outside of Deidara’s sight.  
  
When the Stone’s ANBU shinobi storm his family compound and rip him away from his mother’s arms, he can feel her presence become deflated. As the shinobi strip his mother and his legless father attempts to crawl over and help, Ino’s breath accelerates a little bit.  
  
Deidara wishes he could close his eyes, but these are memories are like a film festival in his head. He will experience it all over again even with his eyes shut. He will hear his mother being violated, the laughter of the men doing it, the implication behind the comment that Deidara looks pretty girly for his age, and the footsteps as they approach him.  
  
Everything turns to black, and Deidara doesn’t understand. He thought Ino wasn’t supposed to skip.  
  
“I don’t need to see anything further,” Ino tells him in the darkness of his subconscious. “I know what will happen.” She pauses. “Just do me a favor. If it somehow comes up in Lady Hokage’s questioning, tell her the whole truth.”  
  
“Yes,” Deidara agrees. Gratefulness rolls through him in a wave. Ino has spared him a million nightmares.  
  
Deidara spins back into his cell and feels Ino’s head against his shoulder. Air rushes into his lungs as she pulls back and looks at him with eyes that are sad but trying not to show it. Deidara has seen something similar before in Kurotsuchi’s eyes—the way they helplessly try to apologize without actually saying it.  
  
Ino stands. “I think that’s enough for the day.” She brushes her clothes off and exits the room. Deidara gets a glimpse of Sakura as she leaves.  
  
Wobbly, he also rises to his feet and stumbles over to his bed, sliding in under the thin, scratchy sheets. He rests flat on his back and stares at the ceiling, only shifting to pull his hands out from underneath the covers. He holds them up for his eyes to see. Ino has not gotten to the memory behind them yet.  
  
She was right when she said this experience would not be pleasant. She also wasn’t lying when she said it would be physically painless. However, Deidara thinks as he lowers his shaking hands back to the mattress to grab fistfuls of sheets, he is sure he would be able to handle physical pain a lot better than this torture.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm really sorry for not updating for a long time! i'm in college currently and my course load this semester is already breaking my back :-( i promise to try and update as frequently as i can but not at the cost of my grades and GPA lol
> 
> that being said: each comment, kudos, and read is appreciated! thanks for reading :-)


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HOLY SHIT THANKS EVERYONE FOR YOUR PATIENCE I'M REALLY SORRY FOR NOT POSTING BUT SCHOOL HAS LITERALLY BEEN SPANKING ME LIKE THE DIRTY BITCH I AM
> 
> THE CHAPTER ISN'T EXACTLY UP TO THE STANDARD I HOLD MYSELF TO BUT I REALLY REALLY WANTED TO GET SOMETHING OUT FOR Y'ALL BECAUSE EVERYONE'S BEEN NICE. SO WITHOUT FURTHER ADO.

When Ino returns the next day, Deidara gazes at her from his mattress when she enters. He has never been uneasy around anyone before. Being shameless is one of his most defining characteristics, but there is something so exposing about having Ino inside of his thoughts, even the most repressed ones. It makes him blush and shudder at the same time.  
  
Pleasantries are skipped. This is all business for Ino, and it should be for Deidara too, he knows. There is just something about someone finally knowing every inch of him, however, that makes his skin crawl. He is reluctant to let her know more, but he knows he has no other choice if he wants to remain here.  
  
The next memory they explore is empty. The compound is mostly abandoned, and Deidara is alone in the middle of his half-destroyed home. His sisters’ withered corpses lie on the floor next to him. Ino’s presence is frowning again even though she is trying her hardest to be transactional.  
  
“What happened?” she asks, confused. Clearly, she realizes, she has missed something major by skipping the end of Deidara’s last memory.  
  
Deidara laughs curtly though he is not happy. “Something not too different from the Uchiha clan’s massacre.”  
  
“Your clan was killed?” Ino asks gently. Her presence grows stronger, practically swallowing him whole. She grants Deidara as much time as he needs to speak. “Why?”  
  
“Insubordination,” Deidara replies after a minute. “After my father’s amputations, the clan was resolved to leave all combat units and work only in the Explosion Corps. The Tsuchikage did not want that. The adults were slaughtered, but some of the children were spared because they still wanted us around after all.” Deidara laughs cruelly at the memory. “Most of the kids died within a few years—combat or suicide. I was one of the only left.”  
  
“How did you survive?” Ino inquires curiously. If it was as bad as Deidara said, he would have to been lucky to escape unscathed.  
  
“I wasn’t an idiot,” he growls.  
  
Ino resumes her inspection of his memories again after determining what he means. Next, she views the time in Deidara’s life where had lost all purpose. Through early adolescence, he stumbles through the vapid monotony of his life, only spurred into something mildly interesting by brief appearances of Kurotsuchi. Ino senses Deidara’s anxiety during her appearances, and this change in his nature is noteworthy, and, therefore, she must be thorough when it comes to analyzing their relationship. When 13 year-old Deidara clumsily kisses Kurotsuchi, Ino laughs, not escaping Deidara’s protests to skip this part. This, however, is much more enjoyable for him to relive than anything that came previously.  
  
Still, despite the founding of young love, Deidara’s life is still bleak and purposeless. The massacre of his clan has misshaped his destiny. Deidara had become someone he hated because of his abilities. He was scared of himself and what he could do.  
  
They watch his former self sift through the ruins of his clan’s old compound. He visits more often than he remembers according to his memories. In his former home, Deidara finds his mother’s art collection, clay figurines and portraits. They are mostly damaged, but Deidara takes them back with him anyway. He looks at them before he sleeps and often dreams about his mother making art and inviting him to join her. It always made her feel better she had once told him. He misses her terribly.  
  
Ino discovers that Deidara’s passion for his art springs from the closeness he feels to his mother through it. She feels his desperation to leave the shinobi life behind so he can focus on cultivating his art, immerse himself fully in it and express himself through it. The Tsuchikage does not allow this to happen; he orders Deidara to keep killing in the name of Iwagakure.  
  
The sadness within Deidara turns to anger which turns into fury right before their very eyes. Deidara realizes just how pissed off he was back then—and rightfully so.  
  
Deidara resolves to combine his art with the very thing the village holds so dear about him. He will become someone both his mother and father could be proud; he will be true to himself. The path he will decide to follow may end up with him dead, but then he will die a proud man. Let the road to Hell be paved with the bodies of the men who killed his clan.  
  
He quickly developed his plan, regretfully having Kurotsuchi manipulated in the process, and stole the Iwagakure kinjutsu.  
  
Ino witnesses the night Deidara steals the kinjutsu, Kurotsuchi by his side as she leads him down countless underground tunnels so he can see it for himself. Just out of curiosity, he had told her. She watches as Deidara rips the sealed parchment free and forms the seals, Kurotsuchi screaming for him to stop in the background. Blood gushes from his palms and chest; the tongues spring free from their newly formed mouths. Deidara is screaming too, but he did this to himself. He needed the excuse to get exiled.  
  
The screaming attracts attention, but Deidara runs back to his family’s compound before they can catch him and hides there. Kurotsuchi promptly told her grandfather what had occurred in the tunnels, but she also found Deidara to warn him of the repercussions he would have to face.  
  
Deidara says goodbye to Kurotsuchi that night and abandons the village for the temple owned by his family out in the country.  
  
Their young love would have never flourished anyway. Kurotsuchi’s grandfather is the man that caused Deidara’s misery. He will never forgive that prehistoric fucker. Whenever he looks into Kurotsuchi’s face and realizes her grandfather’s blood runs through her veins, Deidara chills to the core. Though she was the only friend he had, she was also his enemy all along too.

-

Ino swiftly goes through memories of Deidara’s trek into the countryside and discovery of the temple. He trained there by himself and worked on his art, slowly withering away due to his lack of food and money to get any.

Not much fills his days other than art appreciation. These days wound into weeks. Deidara eventually finds out just what the Iwa kinjutsu is capable of. He wonders. He applies his explosive chakra into his little figurines. They come to life. They bring life to the decrepit temple Deidara has come to call home. And then, Deidara knows the perfect way to make money, save himself from starvation.

He travels for a little bit, goes everywhere he can walk to talk to enemies of Iwagakure. There are many insurgency groups who are eager to take up his offers. Eventually, a man in a dark cloak approaches him. He is Deidara’s new contractor. Deidara does not have to search anymore; this man will find jobs and report them to Deidara.

Deidara is allowed to go home for the first time in weeks. It is a much harder walk back because his pockets are heavy with money.

Ino’s presence changes as they go through these months of Deidara’s life. Suddenly, her aura shrinks away where she had once engulfed him before. In these minutes, she bears witness to Deidara’s crimes as a mercenary ninja. She watches how the bodies pile at his feet with his self-discovered art.

This is the background she is expecting to uncover in Deidara. She does not know why she is suddenly so surprised to see this dark side of him; she knew he was evil before she had walked into the room and laid her eyes on him. She had done just as her father instructed her not to and felt sympathetic to this abhorrent disaster of a shinobi. It disappoints her immensely, and Deidara senses it.

Ino continues.

In one memory, the contractor returns and hires Deidara to take out an entire fleet of his old comrades. He obliges willingly. No sense of loyalty remained within him, and he was working on restoring the temple, so long neglected. He flies over them, and they all gaze up at him in wonder, stunned by the large, clay bird above them.  
Deidara hates them.

He hates their perfect, little, insignificant lives with their perfect loyalty to their seemingly perfect village. Deidara had once foolishly, naively, lived that life. Now, he knows better, knows the truth behind tyranny and suppression. He hates the way they don’t know what he does and he is very okay with ending them there and then in all their naivety. There is something so unnerving about their simplicity that just makes Deidara want to destroy them.

Deidara’s mouths spit out chakra-clad clay in wet, messy clumps. He molds it all into a easy shape of a bird with clipped wings. There is something so charmingly tragic about creating something that was meant to fly and taking that away from it. He smiles at the first C3 bomb he ever made and drops it onto the unsuspecting ninja below, still gazing at him in wonder.

Right before the blast, they look so peaceful, so unknowing, so... beautiful.

This is art. True art.

The explosion itself, ripping apart beautiful things with no regard for who deserved it and who didn’t. That moment of pure sublimation of something good and pure into absolutely nothing—rather than letting it wither and perish, exist long enough to turn evil and corrupt. The explosion rips all of that way. It ends all of that. It creates nothing out of everything.

_Art is an explosion._

Deidara’s consciousness slams back into his body. He jolts upright as Ino shoots off of him as if he was something too hot to the touch. Within a second, she has thrown herself out of the chair away from him and gotten sick into the single drain on the floor near the door.

Sakura smashes in through the door and kneels next to Ino, throwing the blonde’s hair over her shoulder. Next, her angry eyes turn to Deidara still in the chair, a little sweaty from the endurance of Ino’s perusal.

“What the hell did you do?” Sakura asks, her eyes narrowed and her teeth bared in a snare. Her fist is clenched; it was stupid she didn’t have to wear chakra restraints down here, but he did.

Ino puts a hand up, halting Sakura’s questioning. “It’s alright. It’s not his fault. I felt nauseous all this morning—not his fault.”

Ino rises on her knees, wiping the back of her mouth as Sakura refocuses her attentions on her friend. Sakura looks reluctant to believe her, but Ino waves her off, nodding her head that she’s fine when Sakura’s eyes seem to ask again that she’s okay.

Sakura rises to a stand and shoots a look over at Deidara as if to warn him that she’s still suspicious of him. There is no doubt in his mind that she will adamantly hold onto her hate for him.

Ino sits again when Sakura closes the door. Deidara observes Ino’s clearly shaken state.

“Why did you lie to her?” Deidara asks in a low voice lest Sakura be listening in on their conversation.

It is no coincidence that Ino discovered where Deidara found the true meaning of art and then got sick. He is too experienced to know that the occurrences are never by accident. Many people have disagreed with his view on art before in many different ways. Sasori was one of them.

Ino wipes the back of her mouth again. “It would have been unprofessional.”

“What difference does it make when you’re just going to disclose it to the old broad?” Deidara crosses his arms over his chest, now unbelieving in his own way. “I’m sure her favorite student will hear about it anyway.”

“You want Sakura to know that bad?” Ino asks with a sneer but also appearing amused.

“No,” Deidara begins, “but it’s who I am. I won’t hide from it.” He looks off at a cracked tile above her head, no longer able to face her. She is the only one who knows of this incident other than himself.

“Won’t even try to defend your actions?” Ino muses with a smirk. She sits back in her chair and surveys Deidara, his body language. It is unusual for someone who wants to become integrated into Konoha society so badly.

Deidara chuckles darkly. “Would you even believe me if I did? You saw what you saw. I can’t change that.” Even if he was inclined to defend himself, he has no idea what she’ll dig up that could contradict his lies.

“I would if you were lying about your excuses,” Ino answers, cocking her head to the side. Her silky, blonde hair spills over her shoulders. “I can feel everything you can in the moment.”

“So you felt how much I hated those shits?” Deidara smirks, realizing his grave is dug. There is nothing to do but lie in it.

Ino nods. “I felt how much you hated them. I felt all the jealousy and rage.” She smiles as she remembers Deidara’s memories. It is an odd sight to see her grin when she just got sick over them. “I felt all that pain you’re trying to pretend you didn’t feel.”

Deidara tenses a little bit, his eyes going from her smug expression to the floor.

“I won’t ask why you did it. I know why.” Ino sits up, leaning forward again. “Ready for more?” she asks.

Deidara is quiet for a moment, thinking about how Ino knows just what he felt in that moment. All the pent-up rage, the jealousy, the bitterness, the hatred. She knows some of the darkest parts of him, and he knows nothing of her other than the fact that she is disgusted by him.

“Deidara?” Ino whispers, ducking her head a bit so she meets his eyes. “Are you ready or not?” Her hands are in the formation, prepared for more digging.

Deidara smirks. “Are you?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I HOPE YOU ENJOYED AND AGAIN I'M REALLY SORRY FOR THE WAIT AND I HAVE NO IDEA WHEN I'LL POST AGAIN BUT I'M SOOO GRATEFUL TO THOSE OF YOU WHO STUCK WITH MY STUPID ASS AND HELLO TO ANYONE NEW
> 
> EACH READ, COMMENT, AND KUDOS IS APPRECIATED


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